


Pass the Yams

by LaurelNymph



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 13:47:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaurelNymph/pseuds/LaurelNymph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi and Eren attempt to host their first Christmas together. It goes about as well as you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pass the Yams

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the Ereri secret Santa for momodessertmeow on tumblr!

The second Levi stepped into the supermarket, his nose wrinkled in pure, unadulterated disgust. The store was packed to the brim with frazzled housewives squabbling over the last can of pumpkin pie mix or the last turkey baster or whatever-the-fuck-else it was they’d forgotten in their quests to please their psychotic in-laws with the perfect Christmas dinner.

Levi skimmed the shopping list his own frazzled spouse had crammed in his hands before sending him down to this germ-infested hellhole. Did they _really_ need that cranberry sauce? Levi was pretty sure they could make do without it. And without the green beans and marshmallows. Then he wouldn’t have to set foot in this clusterfuck.

Not for the first time, he deeply regretted agreeing when Eren had insisted he wanted to host Christmas dinner since this year Carla couldn’t do it for the first time. It didn’t seem worth all this trouble.

Unfortunately for Levi, it was already December 24th. Family was set to invade the house in a matter of hours. It was weeks too late to back out of dinner. According to Eren, anyway. Levi could live with weaseling out of it now. What he _couldn’t_ live with were the months he’d spend banished to the guest room with only his hand for company if he kicked Eren’s family out on Christmas. So he braced himself and picked out a shopping cart. For that ass.

More than an hour later, an exhausted Levi was pulling his car into their driveway.

"Fucking long-ass grocery store lines," he growled as he dumped the bags on the one tiny patch of kitchen counter that wasn’t covered in bowls of food. He walked in on Eren flitting around the kitchen like a hummingbird on LSD. Both hands were armed with utensils as he went from dish to dish, stirring this, adding salt to that, totally oblivious to everything except the food.

“Eren,” Levi called out. Eren’s face bloomed into a 1000-kilowatt smile when he saw the supermarket bags on the counter.

"You’re the best, Levi!" he said, dashing over to the counter. Levi leaned in for his welcome home/thank you kiss but was cruelly shoved to the side, puckered lips wilting away in disappointment. Oblivious to his pain, Eren started digging around in the bags, muttering to himself. Levi started to eye potential exits as Eren kept searching, getting more and more frantic with each pass through the ingredients.

He was practically turning the bag upside down when he demanded to know, “Levi! How could you forget the marshmallows? They were on the list!"

Goddammit. Levi had really hoped that Eren wouldn’t notice they were missing. But it wasn’t his fault! "I didn’t forget, they ran out."

An exasperated glare was sent Levi’s way. What the hell? He didn’t do it on purpose! If there were no marshmallows at the store, then there were no goddamn marshmallows. What did Eren expect him to do, trek all over the city and check every supermarket for those shitty abominations?

“You really couldn’t check a different supermarket? I needed those! How am I supposed to serve sweet potato casserole without the marshmallows?"

Frustrated, Levi snapped, "Put the bowl on the table and jam a spoon in it."

"That's not funny, Levi!” Eren yowled. “I can't serve a subpar casserole!"

"Don't serve it at all, then!"

Eren shot him a look like _he_ was the weird one.

"It's not Christmas without sweet potato casserole with the marshmallows on top.”

Levi looked Eren dead in the eye and said, “It’ll still be December 24th whether you get all your crazy dishes on the table or not.”

Eren’s eyes widened as he drew back. The next second, he’d narrowed his eyes hard and clenched his jaw.

“You just don’t get it,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

The smart-ass retort on the tip of Levi’s tongue died as one of the timers in the kitchen went off. Eren pushed past him. “I have to baste the turkey again.”

Great.

That was fan- _fucking_ -tastic. Another fight to add to the Christmas casualty list. What was this one, number eight? In the three days since Eren had started cooking they’d racked up so many stupid arguments already. And sex had taken the exact opposite turn. (Levi might have been extra irritable because of that. Three days was a long time.) Now how was this crappy holiday supposed to bring family together again? It only led to bitter sexile and made people bicker over useless shit like marshmallows. Levi hated Christmas.

He was startled from his sulking by a loud clatter from the oven. The turkey baster had slipped out of Eren’s hands, who was wobbling on his feet and—

“ _EREN!_ ”

Levi managed to dash across the room and catch his husband before he face-planted straight into the open oven. He struggled to close the oven door and keep his unconscious husband’s body from sliding to the floor. Fuck it all. This Christmas madness had gone on long enough. It was going to end now. Levi started to drag Eren toward their bedroom. He must have woken up then, because all of a sudden he was shoving a shaking hand into Levi’s face to woozily try to push him away.

“Hands off, I need to finish the turkey!” Eren slurred.

The hand muffled Levi saying, “Fuck the turkey. You fainted. You’re lying down _now_.”

“I didn’t faint!”

Yeah, he wasn’t buying that bullshit. Ignoring his protests, Levi swept him up into a bridal carry. Eren thrashed in his arms, kicking wildly and shouting, “PUT ME DOWN LEVI I HAVE TO GET THE CRANCERRY SAUCE DONE MIKASA LOVES _IT_!”

He shrieked on the “it”, bouncing as he was dumped onto the mattress. He glowered at Levi; too bad it didn’t look that intimidating against the background of cheery elves from the boner-shrinking Christmas duvet Eren had _insisted_ on putting on the bed. It especially didn’t help that his eyes were still glassy. Eren barely looked more conscious than he had by the oven.

“T.S. for her,” Levi shrugged, taking in the paleness of his husband’s face. “I’m not letting you do anything but take a nap. You _need_ it.”

“I’m almost done, just let me back into the kitchen—”

He tried to sit up; Levi pushed him back down with a hand on his chest. It was a valiant struggle Eren put up as he tried to get back to the food prep, but Levi was stronger. And willing to resort to low tricks. Like throwing the duvet over his husband’s wriggling body and rolling him up into it. With Eren trapped under the blanket, it was easy for Levi to jump up on the bed and use his weight to wrestle him face-down onto the bed. Straddling his ass, Levi shoved Eren’s face into the pillow, 100% fucking _done_ with this circus act.

He leaned in close to Eren’s ears so he could be sure to get it through his skull, “You’ve been up for _three fucking days_ getting ready for this dinner. You pushed yourself too hard and collapsed. You. Need. Sleep.”

Eren managed to twist his head sideways under Levi’s hand to frown at him.

“I’m _fine_ , Levi. You’re freaking out over nothing, I… I just tripped! In the kitchen. Let me get up, there’s barely anything left to do, it won’t take me long.”

Levi gaped at Eren, practically speechless. Key word being practically.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eren? You passed out into the oven! If you keep this up you’re gonna set this house we just paid for on fire. Or hurt yourself. I’m not letting you go.”

Eren’s eyes wandered away at the same time a flush spread across his cheeks. He turned his head away and mumbled into the covers, “I just want everyone to be happy at Christmas.”

“Of course they will be, you giant dope,” Levi sighed. He shifted, letting go of Eren’s hair and settling down on his back. How could his family not be happy with this? “They’re seeing you for the first time in months. You’d have to serve them literal shit to piss off your family on Christmas.”

Eren chuckled. “I guess so.”

“They’d probably also consider it a shit Christmas if, you know, they come all the way the fuck out here just to find our burnt corpses lying in our destroyed house because you can’t admit it when you hit your limits. _That’d_ ruin Christmas forever.”

Apparently the shame tactic was working, because not only did Eren’s ears turn bright red, but Levi could also feel the fight leaving him, his body deflating under Levi’s. But Levi still didn’t move. Eren might’ve _looked_ guilty as hell, but then again, this was the same maniac who’d taken—and _passed_ —the bar running a 102° fever. Levi didn’t trust him not to try to sneak out of bed the second he left him alone. So he stayed with him there, squished up on top of Eren so he couldn’t leave.

“Levi. You’re crushing me.”

Levi rolled over so he was lying at Eren’s side, but didn’t unlink his arms from around his chest. It was a better view anyway. This way he could look straight into his husband’s eyes and feel deep relief that they were finally focused again. Eren even found the energy to free his arms from the duvet-burrito so he could tangle his fingers in Levi’s hair. He pulled Eren closer to him, burying his face into his shoulder.

Eren broke the silence first.

“I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

“Idiot,” Levi mumbled, muffled by Eren’s ugly, itchy sweater. “Who says I’m worried?”

He felt Eren shake his head in disbelief.

“Seriously though, what about the yams. And the green beans. And the cranberry sauce. I was looking forward to eating that.”

He sounded so goddammned heartbroken about missing two dishes. And that was the exact tone from Eren that always had Levi crumbling. It had him agreeing to host this dinner, it was the reason there was a mutt tied up in their new backyard, and before he knew, it was making him offer, “Fuck, _I’ll_ do them. How hard can it be, they all come from a can.”

An awkward silence followed. Levi made the mistake of pulling back to look at his husband. Eren refused to meet his eyes and the weird grimace on his face made him look like he was holding in the biggest shit of his life. Levi decided not to dwell on the blow to his pride that his own husband apparently didn’t trust his abilities to open a stupid can of cranberries. Instead, he insisted, “Just tell me what to do. I’m not letting you get up anytime soon.”

Eren still didn’t look convinced. Levi added, “They’re not getting done any other way.”

Eren made an unhappy sound, but gave in. “Then I guess you can do the sauce and the yams. Just put them in a pan with water and cook them until they’re tender. Then mash them—”

“Wait.” Levi shifted around until he could reach his pocket. He pulled out his phone and set it up to record. “Now tell me what you need me to do.”

Eren started over. “You can cook the yams in water over medium heat until they’re tender, then…”

After Eren rattled off the steps to five different things he needed Levi to cook, he couldn’t help asking, “How the fuck do you have all these recipes memorized?” Eren didn’t even have a cookbook with him. Levi fucked up dishes _with_ Eren hovering over his shoulder.

“I helped my mom make Christmas and Thanksgiving dinner until I was thirty. This is the first year we’re not doing it together.”

Oh fuck. Here it came. Like a shank to the gut, there was the cold, dark sucker punch of guilt. How in hell had Levi had such a massive brain fart that he’d managed to forget that Eren had always gone to his parents’ house to help with the cooking on holidays? He blamed the Christmas frenzy for his memory’s giant fuckup. (That, or it was a serious problem he should take up with his doctor.) Because it was stupidly obvious.

Eren, the manic little shit, was pushing himself for all this dumb crap because he missed his mom. Suddenly, Levi felt like the king of Douche Mountain. He didn’t have many attachments to his family so he hadn’t really thought about how much harder moving across the country would be for Eren. Or pictured what it might look like when Eren missed out on shit like this. Now that he had to be face-to-face with Eren’s miserable face, it hit him.

Still, “She’s just working this year, you hopeless mama’s boy.” Levi squeezed his arms tighter around his husband anyway. He felt his shirt crinkle up in Eren’s grip, so he added a few gentle pats to his back. “Next year they’ll get better plane tickets so they can come over earlier and you can do all this shit together again.”

Eren finally cracked a smile that didn’t look stressed. The first in at least a week.

“You think so?”

“You two are so goddamn disturbingly close I’m sure of it.”

“I hope so.”

Levi hoped that instead Grisha and Carla would offer to host the next holiday. And preferably, every single one after that. But if Eren’s parents would come to their house earlier and help reign in their son’s crazed perfectionism, then that would work fine too. Whatever kept Eren from ending up in this state again.

He clutched Eren closer, heart thudding uncomfortably just thinking about what could have happened to him if Levi hadn’t been there when he passed out. Definitely face burns. Maybe even worse.

Levi forced himself to stop thinking of what could have happened. He concentrated on Eren, who was here, right now, safe and warm in his arms. He counted the breaths tickling the back of his neck, grateful for every one he felt. He didn’t give a shit if he was overreacting. Eren had scared the hell out of him and right now he needed to hold his husband. They lied there like that for a while; they only started to untangle themselves when the shrill shriek of a timer sounded.

“You should get started,” Eren sighed. “There’s still a lot left to do. And now you’ll have to baste the turkey too.”

“Fuck that, we haven’t touched each other in days. I’m taking what I can. The turkey’ll live.”

“The turkey’s dead.”

“Shut up and cuddle me.”

Eren did exactly that. At least, until his breath started to even out. Levi wanted to stay and watch his husband’s sleeping face, but he had promised to finish the damn sauce. Eren probably couldn’t hurt himself while asleep. (But Levi was absolutely going to barricade the door to the kitchen anyway so he couldn’t get in if he tried.) Reluctantly, he peeled himself away from his husband and slipped out of bed. As he was leaving the room, he heard Eren stir.

“Levi?”

He turned around.

“Before you do those things… Do you think you could check the other supermarket? I _really_ want to get those marshmallows.”

“GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP.”


End file.
